


Christmas lights to melt your heart

by phrynne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, First Dates, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Draco Malfoy, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12926217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrynne/pseuds/phrynne
Summary: The light does not move. It does not flicker, does not fade.He has the strange feeling it’s waiting for him.Basically, what the tags say + Harry is romantic af + Draco is clueless.





	Christmas lights to melt your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elly_dk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elly_dk/gifts).



> For you, Elly. Because I love our random conversations that end up in random drarry plots. 
> 
> Merry Christmas to you all! 
> 
> This is probably the cheesiest thing I've ever written. It's Christmas. I'm a Hufflepuff with an imagination. You have been warned!

11 p.m. He’s the only one left at the office. No surprise, really.

Christmas Eve is just a day like any other. Except he’s grateful for the silence. Everyone's gone home to their families. The rasp of his quill on parchment is the only sound and he likes it that way. His thoughts go uninterrupted. The quiet stills him.

He feels comfortable in solitude. Or maybe, he’s just grown used to it.

He works by the light on the tip of his wand. He finds the office lights too bright, they give him headaches. He finishes his paperwork, files the reports, cleans his desk. Everything in its place, as it should be. The sight of orderly things grounds him. Assures him the sun will rise again in the morning.

He picks up his wand from the desk, puts on his jacket, then his gloves, ready to leave. He has no plans for the night. No one is waiting for him.

His eyes fall on the mess on the other side of the room. It’s as if a hurricane has passed over that desk. Chair pushed back, piles of paper everywhere, a confusion of parchments, a bottle of ink carelessly open, its content drying up in the air. His partner is like an atmospheric mishap. Nothing stays the same after he leaves. Like most of the Ministry employees he’d left hours ago, carrying a ton of colourful bags with him. Probably to spend Christmas surrounded by the whole array of redheads he calls family. Draco had thrown a Merry Christmas at his back. He doesn’t know if Potter heard him.  

Draco reaches Potter’s desk, bottles up the ink. Then, he straightens the piles of files. A frame is dropped face down on the desk. He lifts it up. The Golden Trio smiles up at him. Granger and Weasley on either side of Potter. They’re all laughing, scarves blowing in the wind. Wide green eyes jump right at him. He puts the frame face down again and steps back.

That’s when he sees it. He’s completely sure it wasn’t there before.

A little light. By the door.

Hovering, right in his line of sight. Golden-white. He lifts his wand up, stares at it. Waits for it to disappear. It’s probably just a haywire trace of magic left behind. It happens sometimes.

The light does not move. It does not flicker, does not fade.

He has the strange feeling it’s waiting for him.

He takes a step towards it and the light twinkles. Beckons to him. Strange behaviour for a light, he thinks. Even a magical one. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with it. But he’s going to have to approach it to leave the room. He takes another step, there’s another twinkle and then the light moves forward. It stops again.

It wants him to follow.

There’s something so warm about it. So endearing. He doesn’t decide it, but follows the light anyway. It travels ahead of him down the corridor, casting eerie shadows on the walls, then turns left to the hall with the elevators. He does the same. They both get into the elevator. The light feels warm next to him. Almost familiar. It makes him aware of how cold his hands are. The light guides him to a fireplace. He hesitates. Then makes up his mind.  

There’s a swirl, then he’s looking at a street he doesn’t recognize. But the light seems to know where they’re heading. It flickers more excitedly now, then circles around his head. He eyes it suspiciously. But he can’t keep it up for too long. There’s something about this light. Something that does not make sense, something that shouldn’t be happening. Unexpected. He wants to know.

He walks after it. The light flies in front of him and he can almost feel its energy battering at his skin, drawing the cold away. He turns left, then right, the streets are almost empty but there are some Muggles rushing past him, friends laughing, and lights shining on every building. He reaches a square. The light is positively ecstatic at this point. It sparkles in front of his nose, then flies so fast he almost has to run to keep it in sight.

And then it stops. Draco does too, just in time.

Green eyes, messy hair, Gryffindor scarf. The light shines a bright gold so intense it blinds Draco suddenly and then, just like that, the little light is out.

There are spots of white in his vision. Beyond them, Potter smiles at him.

Draco does not smile. He feels frozen on the spot, and that’s the only reason he doesn’t bolt. That’s also the reason he notices the sign Potter is holding in his hands. Plain white with large words written on it.

**Will you go on a date with me?**

Draco reads it three times. The words start to lose their meaning. A thousand unsaid things go up his throat. A thousand days of wondering, pieces of a puzzle scattered on his mind.

‘Happy Christmas, Draco,’ Potter choses to say then.

The nerve of him. That’s the one thing that’s always gotten under Draco’s skin. The sheer nerve of him. Draco’s trembling.

‘Is this your idea of a joke? Bring me here just to humiliate me? It’s fucking Christmas Eve.’

Potter has the decency to stop smiling. He looks startled.  

‘I thought you’d like to watch the Christmas lights with me,’ he gestures to the square.

Draco is vaguely aware that there’s a huge Christmas tree in the center, covered in lights. Draco has always loved Christmas lights. Right now, he hates them with a vengeance.

‘And maybe spend Christmas Eve. With me, I mean,’ Potter adds, like it’s nothing.

Potter has always been the mystery Draco can’t solve. Right now, Draco doesn’t get the stupid sign he’s still holding or any of the words he speaks. He also doesn’t get why Potter’s eyes are so green. The sight of them hurts him. Tugs at his chest.

Draco takes a step back.

‘Why would you want that? You’re supposed to be at the Weasleys.’

Life is supposed to be a certain way. It’s not supposed to be like… this.

Potter smiles at him, looks down at the sign, like it could answer the question for him. He looks shy. It shouldn’t fit him. But it does.

‘I told them I had other plans this year. I went there earlier to leave the presents, that’s why I left in a hurry. Didn’t fancy being murdered by Rose and Hugo if I didn't leave them their presents tonight,’ he chuckles.

Draco scowls.

Potter laughs.

‘I bought Rose a new broom,’ he says.

Draco tries to follow the logic, but gets lost. Potter brushes his hair back with one hand, the way he does when he doesn’t know what to say. It’s something he does quite a lot around Draco, now that he thinks of it.

‘I was kinda hoping to be busy tonight, so…’ Potter looks expectantly at him.

It’s not like Draco hasn’t thought about this before. Well, not this _follow the light_ thing, with Potter waiting at the other end. No one in their right mind would think such a pathetic thing. But he’s played other scenes in his head. Ten years is a long time to dream of someone you’ll never have. But those were just dreams. Castles made of clouds. Beautiful, untouchable. Like Potter.

This is real. And he’s sure it can’t be true. He gives a wry smile. It hurts his face.

‘As amusing as your life is, I have my own to attend to,’ it’s a lie, but it makes him feel stronger as he turns to leave.

Potter touches his arm.

‘Wait, Draco.’

Draco stares at the hand. Strong, gentle. He can’t move. Potter drops it.

‘I… I really suck at this. Just forget the sign, that was stupid. What I mean is… I’d like to be busy with you.’

Draco’s left eyebrow shoots upward of its own accord.

‘Crap. Scratch that. I mean. It’s the fucking truth, but that’s not it,’ Potter laughs. He looks a bit deranged. ‘Well, not _only,_ but yeah… This isn’t going as I planned.’

Draco crosses his arms. That he could be part of anything Potter plans is quite beyond him. He awaits for whatever madness overtook Potter to be over, so he can go home.

Potter takes a deep breath. He looks at Draco. Determined.

‘During the War, me, Hermione and Ron were hiding. We were hunting for the Horcruxes. It drew us apart… one day, Ron left us. He came back guided by a light, much like the one I conjured up for you. The light told him where we were. It got him back to where he belonged, and back to the love of his life.’

Potter looks breathless. Draco has never felt more lost. Of all the things he’s imagined, this isn’t one of them.

‘Is there a point in that story?’ he asks in the calmest of voices, his heart beating so loudly he almost doesn’t get his own words.

Potter gives him a faint smile.

‘Sometimes we need a bit of light in darkness to see what’s right in front of us.’

Draco stares at him for a moment. Then he looks at the Christmas tree. It’s breathtakingly beautiful and it eases some of the pain.

‘What if darkness is where we truly belong?’ he asks.

‘You never belonged there,’ Potter says in a heartbeat. Draco shots him a quick glance. Potter is also looking at the tree.

‘I need to leave,’ Draco says after a while. He doesn’t move though.

Potter turns to him. This time, Draco can’t look away. He gets the feeling this moment is like those in Muggle movies, almost at the end, when everyone holds their breaths to listen. He does it now.

‘I’m really no good at flirting. Or words. Or Christmas surprises,’ Potter says.  

Draco concentrates very hard on breathing. It’s the most difficult task he’s undertaken.

‘It’s been years. Hermione, of course, was the first to notice it. Even Ron knows it. All my friends. So I can’t exactly deny it anymore, can I?’

Draco realises, belatedly, he is nodding at Potter, but he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to. Potter cracks a smile.

‘She thinks you like me too. And then I thought… she’s always right, isn’t she? ‘Cause she’s quite sure of it.’

Potter looks intently at him. There’s some question in the deep green eyes, but Draco doesn’t speak green eyes. It’s a problem, because he feels Potter is trying to tell him something life shattering. He feels dizzy. Then he remembers he didn’t eat anything since lunch.

‘I think I’m into you. I think I’ve been into you for years. I’m probably ruining everything now. But even if you won’t speak to me again, even if you file for a new partner at work… I need you to know. I like you. Like, really like you.’

Draco understands the words, he really does. Knows what they mean. They just don’t make sense.

‘You can’t be into me,’ he says.

Potter just laughs. The skin around his eyes crinkles with it.

‘You’re right. I’m not. I’m in love with you.’

‘That’s not possible-’

Potter laughs even harder. Draco can’t breathe. The lights flicker and sway before him. Nothing feels real, and yet that laugh feels more real than life itself.

‘She said you’d say that. It’s true, Draco. I’m so fucking in love with you, I don’t want to hide it. I want you to know, I want everyone to know. I should have just said it, not write it on a sign. Will you go on a date with me?’

The sign falls to the floor. Potter reaches for his hand and holds it between his. Even through the gloves they’re both wearing, warmth spreads from the tips of Draco’s fingers, to his palm, to his wrist, to his arm.

‘No one has dates on Christmas Eve,’ he says. He’s smiling and he doesn’t know why.

Potter smiles back.

‘I have a reservation. At your favourite restaurant.’

‘On Christmas Eve?’

‘It pays to have slayed a Dark Lord.’

Potter grins at him. It should be ridiculous, but it’s just fucking attractive in a way it has no right to be. Draco releases his hand and picks up the sign. He turns it and reads the words again. It’s the most pathetic thing.  

He notices Potter staring at him.

‘You’re always so quiet. I never know what’s on your mind,’ Potter says. ‘And I want to. I so want to. Is that your way of saying yes? Please tell me it is.’

‘Has anyone told you how impossible you are?’

‘You. All the time. Thing is… I think you like it. A little bit.’

He’s wrong. It’s a lot. A whole _huge_ lot.

‘You fancy yourself too much,’ Draco says. He turns to look at the tree. The lights dance in seemingly random patterns. Like life, he thinks.

‘Someone promised me dinner. I’m wondering if he’s going to keep the promise.’ Draco glances at Potter. They’re very close, their arms touching.

‘There’s something else he wants,’ Potter’s voice is a whisper.

Draco leans closer. He doesn’t dare to think.

‘Will you hex me if I kiss you right now?’

He tastes Potter’s question on his lips already.

‘I don’t think I will.’

Lips brush his. Warm. Light.

‘Good.’

Harry tastes like strawberries and whisky, Draco thinks. Warm liquid fire.

This Christmas Eve is unlike any other day of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> How was my fluff? Not too bad I hope!


End file.
